The next day, the Holy Dynasty's army moved like a black tide, slowly advancing into the edges of the Cloud Dream Marsh.
Dense, nearly corporeal grayish-white miasma immediately enveloped them, obstructing their vision and drastically compressing the range of their divine sense.
Beneath their feet lay bottomless bogs and tangled, bizarre vegetation, while the air reeked of decay and poison.
The massive military formation seemed clumsy here, every forward step requiring vanguard cultivators to carefully probe the path with techniques and solidify the mud, making their progress excruciatingly slow.
Ye Fan commanded from the central army, standing aboard a colossal dragon-head warship hovering several zhang above the ground, his expression impassive as he watched the troops being swallowed by the mist ahead.
He did not rush forward. Instead, he calmly issued his orders.
"Pass the command: all units maintain formation, advance steadily."
"Formation masters will lead the way, gradually clearing the miasma ahead. No one is to charge recklessly for merit."
His strategy was clear. With absolute strength, he would advance methodically and crush this mysterious marsh in the safest manner possible.
However, this slow progress clearly did not sit well with certain individuals.
"Hmph, what a pain!" Zhan Wuji crossed his arms and stood at the bow, looking down at the army crawling like snails, his face filled with impatience.
"Mere illusions and mud, and three hundred thousand troops can barely move?"
"With your caution, when will we ever catch those homeless curs?"
Beside him, Jian Wuming's fingertips flickered with sword qi, eager for action.
Ling Guzi, Shi Potian, Feng Wuhen, and the other Holy Sons also showed signs of impatience.
Only Zhu Qingcheng and Han Junru remained calm, seemingly without objection to Ye Fan's cautious approach.
Ye Fan glanced at Zhan Wuji, his tone flat.
"The Cloud Dream Marsh is treacherous and unpredictable. Xiao Chen and the others have operated here for decades."
"There must be ambushes. Caution is paramount."
"Ambushes?" Zhan Wuji scoffed.
"In the face of absolute strength, any ambush is a joke! They're probably terrified out of their wits, hiding in rat holes and trembling!"
Before his words had even faded, a sudden change erupted from deep within the mist ahead!
Two figures, ghost-like, flashed past the edge of a twisted forest to the left front!
Though they moved with extreme speed, their unique auras were instantly recognized by the Holy Sons!
"It's Han Yu and Jiang Che!" Ling Guzi's eyes narrowed.
"Just two hiding rats!" Bloodthirsty light blazed in Zhan Wuji's eyes.
"Let's crush them!"
"Wait!" Ye Fan called out to stop them.
But it was already too late! The two closest Holy Sons—Feng Wuhen, renowned for his speed, and the hot-tempered Shi Potian—could no longer hold back.
"Lowly rats, daring to show yourselves? Seeking death!" Shi Potian roared, earthy yellow light erupting around him as he shot forward like a meteor!
Feng Wuhen's figure dissolved into a wisp of clear wind, overtaking Shi Potian despite starting later, his speed astonishing!
Neither man waited for Ye Fan's command. Leading a squad of elite guards, they unhesitatingly chased after the direction Han Yu and Jiang Che had vanished, plunging straight into the mist-shrouded forest!
Ye Fan's brow furrowed, but he did not forcibly stop them.
He merely ordered, "Record the direction they departed. Send a scout squad to follow at a distance and report at all times."
The army temporarily halted its advance, waiting for news from ahead. The atmosphere grew stifling.
About the time it takes to burn an incense stick later, another disturbance arose from the depths of the swamp to the right front!
This time, it was Chen Xingcai and Lu Xiaoluo! The two women's figures flickered in and out of the miasma, seemingly arranging some kind of formation.
"Two more!" Jian Wuming could no longer suppress the humming of the sword in its sheath.
"This one's mine!" Another Holy Son, Cang Langzi, who excelled in water-element techniques, flashed with a sharp gleam in his eyes.
"I'll assist you!" Jue Dao Ke, another Holy Son with a fierce aura, also leaped out.
Yet another two Holy Sons, leading their elite subordinates, eagerly gave chase and quickly disappeared into the depths of the swamp on the right.
With two groups of Holy Sons drawn away in succession, the atmosphere around the central army grew even more eerie.
The remaining Holy Sons were only Zhan Wuji, Jian Wuming, Zhu Qingcheng, Han Junru, and Ye Fan himself.
Zhan Wuji's impatience gradually gave way to a trace of suspicion.
He was no pure brute. Years of campaigning had given him an instinct that something was off.
"Something's not right..." Zhan Wuji narrowed his eyes, scanning the deathly still, fog-shrouded swamp around them.
"They seem to be deliberately luring our people away."
Ye Fan remained silent, his gaze profound.
Jian Wuming said coldly, "Luring the tiger from the mountain? Could their target be the central army?"
Zhan Wuji shook his head, his gaze sharpening.
"No, their target isn't the central army, nor is it victory."
"They want to divide us, and then... take us out one by one!"
He suddenly realized, his voice carrying a note of startled anger.
"It's the Splitting Lotus Petal stratagem! They know the army advances slowly, so they're using themselves as bait to lure our Holy Sons into scattering!"
"Have they lost their minds? With their few battered remnants, they think they can assassinate us?"
"Desperate dogs jumping over walls!"
Having figured this out, Zhan Wuji was not afraid. Instead, he was almost amused by their delusional "ambition," his face full of contempt and cruelty.
"Fine! Since they're seeking death, it saves us the trouble of hunting them down!"
"All schemes are meaningless before absolute strength! They're marching to their own doom!"
The very moment his words fell—
A calm yet clear voice drifted slowly from the mist ahead:
"Is that so?"
The mist parted to both sides, and a figure stepped out unhurriedly. Clad in green robes with sword in hand, his expression placid—it was Xiao Chen!
He stood alone in the marsh, his gaze like lightning, directly targeting Zhan Wuji on the dragon-head warship!
"Xiao Chen!" Zhan Wuji's pupils contracted, then his face broke into an extremely excited and cruel smile.
"Excellent! Finally someone worth fighting!"
"You deliver yourself to my door and save me quite some effort!"
He whipped around and shouted to the remaining Holy Sons—Jian Wuming, Zhu Qingcheng—and Ye Fan.
"He's mine! No one interfere!"
"Hold the line here. I'll be right back with his head!"
For Zhan Wuji, schemes like the Splitting Lotus Petal and traps meant nothing before an absolute gap in strength!
He'd long wanted to personally crush this so-called "Eldest Senior Brother" from the lower realm!
With that, Zhan Wuji let out a long howl and transformed into a blood-colored meteor, his Heaven-Splitting Spear aimed directly at Xiao Chen, carrying a sky-full of slaughter aura as he dove from the warship!
Seeing this, Xiao Chen did not linger to fight. He swiftly retreated, vanishing instantly into the dense fog and forest behind him.
"Where do you think you're going!" Zhan Wuji's killing intent was fully aroused.
How could he let Xiao Chen escape? Without a second thought, he pushed his speed to the absolute limit and pursued without hesitation!
The two of them, one chasing and one fleeing, disappeared from everyone's sight in the blink of an eye.
By this point, seven Holy Sons had been lured away, leaving only two—Jian Wuming and Zhu Qingcheng—along with commander Ye Fan at the central army.
Jian Wuming cradled his ancient sword, frowning slightly. He seemed to think Zhan Wuji had been rash, but said nothing.
Zhu Qingcheng remained expressionless, as if nothing concerned her.
Han Junru merely sighed softly, watching the direction Zhan Wuji had disappeared.
Ye Fan stood at the bow, gazing at the five different directions where the Holy Sons had vanished, his eyes unfathomable.
He fell silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke, issuing new orders:
"Fairy Venerable Jian Wuming. Fairy Venerable Zhu Qingcheng."
Jian Wuming and Han Junru looked at him.
"Fairy Venerable Zhan Wuji is valiant and will surely claim the enemy's head."
"However, the army cannot remain stalled here indefinitely. I request that you two Fairy Venerables lead your elite forces and continue advancing, clearing out any remaining resistance along the way, straight to the core of the Immortal Spirit Valley!"
Ye Fan's tone was steady, betraying no emotion.
"I will hold the central army and coordinate from here. If either side needs support, I can respond at any time."
This order was perfectly reasonable. A commander holding the center while sending generals forward was standard tactics.
And with Zhu Qingcheng, a Holy Son of unfathomable strength, accompanying them, there was no concern for safety.
Jian Wuming and Han Junru had no suspicions and nodded.
"I obey the Crown Prince's command." Han Junru cupped his hands in salute.
Jian Wuming merely gave a cold grunt, cradled his ancient sword, and transformed into a streak of sword light, leading the way deeper into the Cloud Dream Marsh.
Zhu Qingcheng followed close behind.
The massive Holy Dynasty army once again began its slow forward march.
On the dragon-head warship, in the blink of an eye, only Ye Fan remained.
Dense fog swirled and miasma drifted, shrouding the warship and obscuring the complex, inscrutable expression on Ye Fan's face.
He stood with hands behind his back, his gaze seemingly fixed on the distance, and seemingly fixed on nothing at all.
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